short story start 2076 circa 2013

In 2074;

In what could be considered the greatest tragedy or the greatest victory for the human race depending on one's pragmatic views 3 nuclear bombs were detonated, destroying Jerusalem (death toll; in the millions), Vatican City (388 dead) and the Cayman Islands, which created a mass economic murder as corporations, banks throughout the world lost the 'paper trail' of assets that were sequestered there.

There was much bible thumping and Quran throwing however with each side indicting the other for the mass genocide neither could put up a strong case as to the organization responsible.

Most blamed the United States, except for the United States who blamed secular terrorist organizations in 48 different countries who all had links to Al Quaeda which was interesting as the last known Al Quada member had died of natural causes[1] in 2049.

It was the grandparents, long spurned as expendable and over-nostalgic that tried to remind people of the collective internet-based group Anonymous. But their postings were drowned out in reruns of the latest editions of 'So You Think You Are A Thinker' and 'Extreme Bat Fights' on the wall screens of most nation's homes and public supermarkets.

Anonymous was prepared for the backlash. The years of planning, the conspiracy theories started decades ago, the revenue from their shares in duct-tape was more than adequate to fund the operation. 

Yet even they weren't prepared for the general apathy that most of civilization displayed after the discovery that the holy trinity of religions was annihilated to nothing more than radioactive decay. There was a short burst of general disorder and chaos throughout most nations that again, thanks to the proliferation of corporate news agencies was summarily censored and (word to describe mass flaunting) in different parts of the world so that while Californians were aware of the mass killings of French tourists by sharks off the coast of Normandy they were blissfully unaware that over 19 million fellow Californians had disappeared from government data banks.

Everyone knew someone who had been killed, yet nobody knew anybody who made the news, barring a quick one-line throwaway story placed between the search for the Holy Land Destroyers and another cute story about a dog and a cat who were best pals.

So this is where the story begins, at the end of religion.

---

[1] he fell to his death after he was headbutted off of a rocky crag in Afghanistan by a unruly mountain goat.

Kurt Vonnegut rules

Kurt Vonnegut

Eight rules for writing fiction:

1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.

2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.

3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.

4. Every sentence must do one of two things -- reveal character or advance the action.

5. Start as close to the end as possible.

6. Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them -- in order that the reader may see what they are made of.

7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.

8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.

-- Vonnegut, Kurt Vonnegut, Bagombo Snuff Box: Uncollected Short Fiction (New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons 1999), 9-10.

Kurt Vonnegut: How to Write with Style

Big BOoTY List #15 - Monstrous Regiment

#15


Needing to slip back into something a little more comfortable, I went for my go-to; Terry Pratchett.
Monstrous Regiment is the story of a country ravaged by war, and the last troop of soldiers to be recruited to head to the front. It has all the stereotypes; the headstrong tougher than nails sergeant, the weaselly, never-seen-action, lieutenant. The troll, the vampire, the Igor, you know, usual Pratchett.

The main protagonist is a bar-girl and shades of Mulan, pretends to be a man to join the army. The ragtag group of Missfits head towards the front lines where a certain Commander Vimes is waiting to welcome them and hopefully bring some peace to the area. Commander Vimes and his Night Watch feature very little in the book, which is a shame because we all could use a little Nobby.

Big BOoTY List #14 Galagapos

#14 Galagapos



I went for a third book of KV's, something I had yet to read. This one is a bit strange in narrative style, and reading his bibliography, it came out about 5 years before Hocus Pocus, which is similar in style but better executed.

Another 'end of the world' type thing, written 1 million years in the future, looking back at the moments that lead to an evolved human race, which through subtle clues are some type of seal/people. The narrator of the story is a ghost, the son of Kilgore Trout, whom most Vonnegut fans will be familiar with. I would have preferred to know that earlier in the story, which is why maybe that comes as a bit of a spoiler alert but whatever... the book was written in 1985.

Big BOoty List #12 and #13 Sirens of Titan/Mother Night

Sirens of Titan

Wow. Started strong this year and then Spring happened and all the chores/kids/lawn care/school practicum and things caught up with me, leaving little 'me' time to read anything other than skimming through social media posts.

But I did re-read this great piece of sarcasm from Kurt Vonnegut; one of his earlier works which generated enough interest for him to continue writing. It also made me want to brush off another work of his I own, Mother Night, and re-read that as well. Two different styles, two great books.

Sirens of Titan is about a series of events which answer the philosophical question as to 'Why are we here?' It delves into religions, civilizations, space travel, inter-dimensional travel, capitalism and the need for people to believe we are here for some purpose. It turns out we are, but it's not what you might expect.

#13 Mother Night

After Sirens, I needed more Vonnegut so I went to the bookshelf and pulled out this one, a little find from Parry Sound, childhood home of my wife and little-known hockey legend, Bobby Orr.

Mother Night is a first person account of Howard Campbell, an American who is awaiting trial in Israel for Crimes Against Humanity and treason sometime in the late 50s. He was a German radio propagandist, working with the German High Command to promote hatred towards Jews and is beloved by American racists and finds himself outed by a white supremacist group which leads to his arrest. He claims he was a spy, working for America in sending secret messages through his broadcasts but the only problem is, he doesn't know who the man was that recruited him.

The book talks of his life in Germany, the loss of his love and the moments of civility he saw in a time of lunacy. In a brief conversation, his character answers the age-old wannabe writer's question of 'inspiration or dedication?' - does one wait for inspiration to write or simply write every day, no matter what the output may be? I think Vonnegut answers for himself, a hint into his writing style when he says it is dedication, not inspiration.

Sadly, I have not had that dedication lately.